What Happens When a “Suitcase Bottle” Gets Dual Citizenship?
Not to sound too wistful, but these days, it’s easy to forget how modest the amaro options in the U.S. once were. Now, most backbars are lined with a wide and rich spectrum of amaro and European liqueurs, but that was not the case when, as a burgeoning drinks writer in the mid-2000s, I first spiraled down the bitter rabbit hole.
Perhaps that’s why, when in Italy, my biggest thrill still comes from acquiring “suitcase bottles” of amaro, those deep-cut discoveries that range from limited-run riservas to special-edition releases, distillery gift shop exclusives (like Amaro Lucano Menta), dusty vintage finds, and yet-to-be imported brands.
At Popina, a modern Italian restaurant on the Brooklyn waterfront, owner and general manager James O’Brien shares a similar affinity for suitcase bottles. When visiting wine producers in Italy, he always makes room for a few special bottles, whether it’s a rare wine, an amaro that you can’t find stateside or a bottle of vintage Chartreuse. O’Brien views it as a way to surprise and delight guests. “The suitcase haul has always been one of my favorite tricks because it feels the most personal,” he says. Offering guests pours from hard-to-source bottles “lets them feel like they tagged along on your trip.”
The bottles in my amari collection that have made the transatlantic journey home do possess a transportive quality. Often, it was the “hunt” to secure these bottles that makes them special. Now, though, some formerly elusive brands and expressions have become available stateside. Does a suitcase bottle risk losing its allure when it attains dual citizenship?
Among the many only-in-Italy bottles I typically bring home with me, Bràulio Riserva, the annual limited-run release of the iconic alpino-style liqueur, remains my first love. Less filtered and aged in smaller barrels for up to 24 months, it’s achieved a bit of a cult-like appeal among amaro heads, and its dated annual releases makes it ideal for vertical flights and tastings. I used to be able to find it for around 22 euros a bottle, though that’s since gone up to around 33 euros to 45.
There were whispers for years that Bràulio Riserva, part of the Gruppo Campari portfolio, would eventually make its way to the U.S., and sure enough, this past holiday season, I finally spied the amaro at my local bottle shop in Brooklyn. But my brief moment of joy was deflated when I saw it was priced at $82. This is in line with the list price of other Italian riserva releases, but the sticker shock made me balk. I left the Bràulio Riserva on the shelf.
As O’Brien explains, “being considered more rare, riservas can probably afford to be less price-sensitive. But when they’re new to the U.S. market they have the opportunity to see where they want to fall: approachable or luxury?”
Taylor Mason, a fellow suitcase amaro fan, suspects the word “riserva” is being used to justify higher costs in the U.S. Mason is the chef and co-owner of Luca and Pizzeria Luca in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and he curates a small but growing vintage amari selection at his restaurants. He also helps lead food tours throughout Italy. “While advocates like us will always be singing their praises regardless of the cost, inflated pricing is unfortunate and hard to be looked at as anything other than price gouging,” he says. Others, like Patrick Miller, founder and co-owner of Brooklyn’s Faccia Brutto Spirits, attribute rising costs to tariff surcharges. “There’s a point where brands have to look at the rising cost of doing business and say, ‘Do we pass this on to the customer or not?’” he says.
For the Bràulio, the bottle does seem to be appealing to at least some stateside shoppers: Brooklyn Wine Exchange in Cobble Hill says that, since the amaro arrived in mid-December, it has sold almost two cases. Much of that, however, can be attributed to the knowledgeable staff hand-selling the product.